


SoMa NSFW Week 2014

by fabulousanima



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Blow Jobs, Closet Sex, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-13
Updated: 2015-05-13
Packaged: 2018-03-30 07:57:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3929014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fabulousanima/pseuds/fabulousanima
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A compilation of the prompts for SoMa NSFW Week 2014.</p>
            </blockquote>





	SoMa NSFW Week 2014

**Author's Note:**

> Amazingly, I totally forgot to upload this last year. These prompts have all long since been posted on tumblr, but I did feel like sharing here.
> 
> NOTE: Day 4 is the next chapter of my dogwalker AU (“Dog Walking”) and will be posted both here and in that continuity.

**Day 1: Caught**

 The air is thick and heavy, pregnant with electricity, as their feet slap against the concrete.  The darkened skies roil with laden clouds, a seething mass of gray and black.  There is a pulse that beats through the air, a heartbeat from the storm.

“I hope we make it back in time,” Soul says, face upturned to watch the sky with distaste.

Maka hums noncommittally.

Their motorcycle lays forlornly on its side a few miles back; they had hoped to make it back to Death City on the machine that was in desperate need of repairs, but they hadn’t made it.  So they started walking towards home, where they could call a tow truck and have the poor thing brought back.

Soul hitches his thumbs through his belt loops as they crest the hill overlooking their city.  The hairs at the back of his neck stick up as the rumbles grow louder, echoing across the empty plains.  They near the grove of tall trees where they had spent countless hours training, the tops of the trees bowing before the might of the oncoming storm, rustling loudly in their haste to prostrate themselves.

There is a loud crack of thunder, and in its wake comes the rain, fat drops falling one, two, three, then all at once, crackling against the ground and the leaves and Soul, who curses.

But Maka lets out a laugh, which bubbles forth past her lips like the gurgling of a spring, and she spreads her arms wide to embrace the clouds, tongue out to welcome each heavy droplet.  The rain plasters her bangs to her forehead as she murmurs joyfully to the sky.

“Maka?”

She doesn’t answer, but turns towards her weapon, a large grin across her face and her eyelashes fighting the heavy water sliding down them.  Soul feels his own hair, wet against his cheeks, but her fingers find their spaces between his, and she tugs playfully on his arm, and they are off, their footsteps echoing, amplified by the water on the ground.

They run through the trees, weaving between the trunks that slowly darken as each raindrop slides down the bark, and Maka’s laughter is infectious, so Soul cannot help but chuckle as he is pulled along by his meister.  He can barely see with the water in his eyes, the untimely darkness from the clouds, the rushing of the trees flying by, but he trusts her, and he will follow wherever she goes.

Lightning forks the sky, cracking across the corner of his vision, and the air rushes to fill the burnt atmosphere with a tremendous growl.  The rain seems to shiver as it falls.

Without warning, Maka whirls on him and brings him close, grabbing at his sleeves with her gloved hands.  She falls backwards against the trunk of a thick oak tree, and Soul puts out a hand to catch himself before he falls onto her.  The bark is moist, rough.

She slides her wet gloves to his face, cool to the touch, and brings his lips to hers.  Her lips are cold, but they warm up slowly as she deepens the kiss.  Soul snakes an arm around her waist.  She tastes like rain, and he can smell it in her hair, and every time their lips part, the storm rushes in.

Soul can hear her breathy moans between the claps of thunder and the pounding of the rain, but just barely.  They are tiny, tiny in comparison to the loudness of the storm, and there is something intimate and electrifying about that, and Soul shudders.

He moves his mouth to her neck even as his hand on her waist traces her skin through her wet shirt.  Teeth gentle against her throat, he can taste a trace of salt through the rainwater.  Maka sighs, leaning her head back against the tree.

His hand reaches her stomach, flesh goosepimpled against the chill, and rubs a knuckle over the subtle rise and fall of her hips, her stomach.  He trails his fingers down her skirt, and her light chuckle in his ear tells him he had read her mind again.  Lifting the heavy, stiff skirt, Soul brushes the pads of his fingers up her inner thighs, feeling her skin twitch with pleasure.

She puts her lips to his ears so he can hear her melody, a song sung for only him, made up of her sighs and gasps and moans.  He pulls lightly at her underwear, damp for a number of reasons, and teases at her entrance.  There is a heat against his fingers like nothing else right now, as his skin and hands and feet and face are all numb with rainwater.  Maka gasps at his cold fingers, jumping away slightly, so he rubs them against her creamy thighs to warm them.

She licks the shell of his ear and he moves back to her heated core.  Soul slips his fingers inside her.  She lightly worries his earlobe with her teeth.

He uses his thumb to tease her clit, and her moan of pleasure is drowned out by another loud rumble of thunder.  Each drop of rain landing against the earth seems to echo her song in his ears, something that speaks of a pulsing, thrumming hum of life.  He pumps his fingers inside her, pressing against the sensitive nub with each pass.  Her cries grow higher, more throaty.  The wind whistles through the branches of the trees.

Overhead, the clouds are a thick, heavy blanket, and lightning jumps between them, pale fingers reaching out to one another, never to meet.  The rain falls fast and thick in a steady rhythm.  Maka’s breaths against his neck seem to mingle with the sounds, blend together in a song all their own, her moans, his heartbeat, and the rain, and the white light of the electricity in the air illuminates them, and her hair glows in the light like a halo around her head—

And she comes around his fingers, quivering in his arms, her throaty cry ringing out just as the atoms of the heavens collided again with a crashing boom.

They lean against the tree, their breathing evening out again.  The rain starts to slow, the drops lazy in their descent to earth.  The storm moves on, rolling over their city and the valley, leaving a dark swath of sand in its wake.

Maka shivers, the heat of her orgasm leaving her now that it was over, and Soul gently pulls his fingers out of her to wrap his arms around her to try to warm her up.  She is slow-moving and spent, and Soul feels as if he too has come, but his erection still strains his jeans and his heart still beats in his ears.  He turns his face towards hers.

“Normally I hate getting caught in the rain,” he murmurs against her cheek.  “But wouldn’t y’know, I like it when I’m with you.”

She giggles and kisses his jaw.  “I like it too.  And now I think I’d like to get caught in the shower with you so we can both warm up.  Sound good?”

  
“Sounds perfect.”

* * *

 

 

**Day 2: Birthday**

Soul clutched the small sharp plastic cup and tried not to scream.  He took a sip, lips cutting against the rim, and downed the (distressingly non-alcoholic) beverage in one gulp.

He put it on one of the tables with white tablecloths and jammed his hands back into his pockets.  Sullenly, he looked around the room.  There were a few familiar faces, but no one he really wanted to speak to, save for his meister, who was steadfastly ignoring him.

Someone approached him and tried to strike up a conversation, but Soul merely grunted his responses and soon the man went away.  Soul sent a spike of annoyance through their link, but Maka kept talking to the thin woman she was chatting with, not even flicking a glance his way.

Soul spotted his brother across the room.  He might have liked to talk to him too, but Wes was surrounded by well-wishers, he was the man of the hour, and Soul knew he’d barely get two words in before someone crowded him out and took Wes’s attention elsewhere.  He may be the Last Death Scythe, but here, in his parents’ home with all their musical big wig guests, he was still just Wes’s little brother.

A large woman sidled up to him.  “I hear you are also fairly decent at the piano?”

Soul managed not to roll his eyes, but only just.  He threw another surge of frustration towards Maka and bared his teeth at the woman, a facade of a smile.

“Have you ever played…”

But Soul’s heart was clenching, and he whipped his head around; their link had just gone dead.  For a moment, he stared at the back of Maka’s head, not understanding why the world felt suddenly a little colder, a little emptier.  He grabbed her arm.

“Maka!”

“Excuse me,” she said to the other guest, and whirled on him.  “What.”

“What is going on?” he hissed.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied icily, and attempted to turn around again, but Soul held on to her tightly.

“Our link,” he muttered under his breath.  “Why—”

“Please excuse us for a minute,” Maka said loudly.  “We’ll be right back.”

She marched towards the stairs, plush carpeting muffling her footsteps, Soul hot on her heels.  She stomped her way into a small laundry room and dragged Soul in behind her, shutting the door with a snap.

“What is your problem?” she asked.

“My problem?!  What is yours!  Why did you shut me out?”

“Because you were being so annoying!” she cried, throwing her hands in the air in exasperation.  “You kept whining all day and being mopey through our link, and I am sick of it!  I know you don’t wanna be here, but we are here already and you just have to deal.”

“But I don’t wanna!” he said, instantly aware of how childish he sounded.

“Soul,” Maka said matter-of-factly.  “Your brother got that new thing in the thing.”

“Concertmaster in the New York Philharmonic.”

“Yeah, that.”  She waved her hand.  “And he’s turning 30 today.  That is a big deal.  It’s his special birthday.  And you’re ruining it!”

“I am not!  He’s barely had a chance to see me, I can’t be ruining it.  No one will notice if we leave,” he said, a pleading look in his eyes.

“No!  You promised!”

“Yeah, before I knew how awful this party was gonna be,” he pouted lowly.  Soul could hear the whine in his tone, but a part of him knew that he was being unreasonable, so he might as well commit to it.

Maka pinched the bridge of her nose.  “What will get you to stop whining?”

“A new guitar?  A PS4?  Sex?  An ice cream sun—”

Maka’s fingers were curled around the waistband of his khakis.  “I think I can at least help with one of those.”

“The ice cream sundae?”

“Har, har,” she said, playing with the coarse hairs just below the elastic of his boxers.  Soul felt himself twitch even at the light touch.  He leaned back, bracing his back against the washing machine.  Maka undid his belt with ease.  Soul let out a sigh of relief as his pants went slack around his half-hard dick.

Maka began to palm him lightly through his boxers.  His pants slipped a little, but she maneuvered his shaft gently through the slit in his shorts so he wouldn’t have to remove them any farther.  She rubbed him tenderly as he grew more and more erect.

“Okay,” she murmured, licking her lips and kneeling down, “after this, you are done being a whiny brat.”  And she took him in her mouth.

Soul hissed at the sudden sensation.  Maka carefully swirled her tongue around, making him slick.

He curled his toes in his nice shoes as she slowly began to move her head, taking him in and out and wrapping her fingers around the base of his penis to cover all of him.  He was strangely sensitive and let out a light gasp.

She paid special attention to the vein underneath his head with the tip of her tongue, prodding lightly, and kept her hand moving in a steady rhythm.  He could still remember the first time they had tried this and how awkward she had been, how she had had no coordination; clearly, times had changed.

She slid him out of her mouth to glance up at him.  “You need to be quiet,” she admonished, and Soul noticed a tinge of pink high on her cheeks.  “We are in your parents’ house!  We have to be subtle.”

“I didn’t even know I was making noise,” he hissed back.  “You’re too good now.”  Maka seemed torn between being flattered and exasperated, and seemed to settle on resuming her previous activity, and put her lips around his shaft once again.

Soul remained quiet, but had to throw his head back when she opened her mouth wider to twist her tongue around him, drawing circles in his skin.  Her hand never wavered.

He could feel a knot forming in his stomach, the tension building as Maka closed her lips around him again, and he clenched his teeth to keep from moaning.  Her mouth was hot, wet, soft, and she knew how to do things with her tongue that drove him crazy.  The knuckles on his hand were white as he let out an embarrassingly high-pitched grunt.  She was working him, mouth and hand moving in tandem, lashes low over her eyes.

“Mph!  Maka, I’m gonna come!” he whispered, and half a second later his release came, and he twitched as orgasmed into his meister’s mouth, feeling a rush and a pounding in his ears.  She let out a small sound halfway between a grunt and a cough, but after a moment, he saw the muscles in her throat contract as she swallowed.  “Sorry, that wasn’t a lot of warning.”

“I’m fine,” she said, getting shakily to her feet.  “It’s no problem.”  She straightened her blouse as Soul lazily dragged his pants up and redid his belt (very, very carefully; his dick was now extremely sensitive).  She whirled on him again.

“Wh—”

“Are you gonna be a better party guest now?” she asked, accusatory finger in his face.

He grinned roguishly, still leaning against the washing machine.  “What if I’m not?”

“Then next time,” she said, placing the tip of her finger below his chin and smiling shrewdly, “it’s my turn.”

  
He chuckled.  “Sounds fair.”

* * *

  


**Day 3: Uniform**

"That absolute _jerk_!” screamed Maka, slamming the front door.  Soul winced, but the glass held, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

"Maka," he said, wiping down the stainless steel cup in his hands, "please stop trying to get us in more trouble."

"That asshole!" she seethed, throwing her towel down on the floor and pacing between the tables.  "That no good, jackass, jerkface Kid!"

Her hands kept tugging at the hem of her skirt; the Deathbucks uniform was far too short for even her, as it had been very last minute that they’d needed them.  Soul felt the shirt of his uniform tug a little tightly across his chest, which he was secretly pleased with, but Maka seemed to be far too livid to have even noticed.  Maka stormed back towards the counter, so Soul strode over towards the door and locked up the shop.  “One down, six to go.”

"We wouldn’t have _any_ left if Kid wasn’t such an ass!” Maka yelled, slamming the coffee makers and empty cups as she cleaned haphazardly.  “He’s such a little shit, I swear—”

"Who is one of your closest friends," Soul reminded her wearily.

"Not anymore!  This is inhumane, this is cruel and unusual punishment, this is—"

"Technically getting off easy," said Soul, trudging over to the small supply closet.  It was surprisingly clean; Soul was glad he wasn’t gagging as he grabbed the mop and bucket.  Really, as far as punishments go, this wasn’t bad at all — except for Maka’s incessant complaining.

"I shouldn’t have even been in any trouble in the first place!" she exclaimed.

"You disobeyed a direct order."

"And it saved four lives!"

"And allowed that rogue coven to escape, which could endanger other ones."  Maka sent him a murderous glare.  "Hey, I’m not saying you were in the wrong — I mean, I backed you on it!  I’m just saying that because we rescued the hostages, we allowed the witches to get away, and we lost track of them again.  It’s gonna take a while to track them down again, now that they’ve got Soul Protect back up."

"And I should be out there looking!" she cried, gesticulating wildly.  "My Soul Perception could be helpful.  I’m no use to anyone if I’m serving _fucking coffee_.”

"I dunno, you could make a case that keeping the DWMA well-caffeinated is extremely helpful," chuckled Soul, using the small lever on the bucket to wring out the mop.  Maka scoffed loudly.  "What, it was a joke!  Okay, fine.  Look, Kid has to seem like a strong leader in front of the witches; he’s new to the job and they’re hunting people who are supposed to be part of the treaty, even if they did break it first.  He has to make sure he seems in charge of his followers, and he definitely can’t play favorites with his friends."  Soul explained everything calmly and clearly, which made sense, as it had been the sixth time he had told his meister the exact same thing.  Maka only curled her lip and started attacking the counter with a rag.

"Stupid Kid," she growled under her breath.  She turned around, and Soul got a brief peek of bright red underwear.  Something lurched slightly in his stomach, and he turned back to the task at hand, really hoping no customers had been awarded the same show he just had.

They worked in relative silence for a few minutes (as silent as it could be with Maka’s mutters) until a loud crash startled Soul out of his reverie.  Maka had fumbled with a large box of silverware and dumped it all over the floor, where the spoons lay in an unsanitary-and-definitely-in-violation-of-the-heatlh-code heap.  She let out a roar of frustration.

"Maka—"

“ _Stupid_ Kid—”

"It’s fine, we’ll wash them all again—"

"I can’t even believe he’s humiliating us like this—!"

"It’s just one week, we can—"

"I’m so fucking mad, I can’t even—"

"Look, would you just—"

"Fuck Kid!" she shrieked.

"I’d really rather you didn’t," Soul said dryly, scooping the fallen spoons into the box.

Maka was silent.  Soul looked up to see her scrutinizing him thoughtfully.

"Maka—"

"No, no, no, but I can fuck _with_ him though,” she said, and Soul had the very distinct feeling she was sizing him up much like he sized up souls before swallowing them whole.

"What do you—"

"Time to break a few more rules," she said, twisting her fingers into his collar and dragging him upwards.  She crashed their lips together.

She was kissing him hard, teeth nipping at his lips and fingers tight at his throat.  Soul’s hands attached themselves to the curve below her ass, finding the edge of those scarlet panties.

Her eyes were open, and he left his open too, and there was something deliciously naughty about watching the way her tongue slid into his mouth, the way her throat contracted as he bit her lips.  He tightened his hold on her legs, curling his fingers around the swell of her ass and kneading the soft skin.

Maka’s eyes flicked over his shoulder to something behind him.  “What’s in there?” she asked between kisses, indicating the supply closet.

"Nothing now," Soul said, and she pushed him backwards towards it.  They fumbled a little through the empty space, but he managed to get his palm around the doorknob and they stumbled into the tiny closet.

She attacked his neck with renewed vigor, her lips pulling at his skin, her teeth marking his flesh.  He pinched at her upper thighs, her ass, and hoisted her higher and unceremoniously shoved her against the cracked sink. Her hand threaded into his hair and yanked him closer.

"That shirt’s a little tight on you," she breathed into his ear, tugging at his earlobe with her teeth.

"Glad you noticed," Soul said, moving his teeth to her collarbone.  He sucked languidly on her heated skin, drawing a gasp from her lips.  She wrapped her legs around his waist and moved against him; he could feel the heat from between her thighs.  He dragged a hand away from her ass, his blunt fingernails leaving a trail of red streaks in their wake, and slipped under the silky fabric of her underwear.  She was already very wet, but he was already very hard, and he grinned rakishly against her neck.

Without further hesitation, Soul pumped two fingers into his meister, and she growled her appreciation into his ear.  While he fucked her with his fingers, she reached for his belt.  Maka undid it with practiced fingers and clutched at the waistband of his boxers, pulling him forward.

"Turned on?" she asked lightly, a question she well knew the answer to, as his dick was hard and covered by her talented hands,  She held him tightly, using her thumb to spread the beginnings of his pleasure around the head of his penis.  Soul shivered as it dried, cooling on his heated skin.

In retaliation, he dragged his fingers out of her sex, trailing her juices along her inner thighs.  She shifted.

"What are you waiting for?" Maka asked, challenge in her voice, and spread her legs apart.  So he didn’t wait, encircling her waist with his arms and angling her towards him as she guided him near her entrance.

She sank onto him easily.  She clenched her walls around him, smirking at the hiss that escaped his lips, so he moved a hand to her hair to pull downwards, exposing her neck to his teeth.

Moving inside her was tiring at this angle, but after a few moments, she pulled his lips back to hers, her eyes still open, and in the dim droning light of the closet light bulb, she rode him.  He watched as she bit her lips, rolled her tongue over her teeth, swallowed roughly, all while her gaze never strayed from his.  She trailed a hand down her Deathbucks uniform and he felt her knuckles press lightly against his abdomen, and he knew she was massaging her own clit, rubbing back and forth.  Her pink tongue seemed to beg for company, so he kissed her roughly without turning his head, their noses bumping as they kissed open-mouthed and wide-eyed, matching each other moan for moan.

In a heady rush, Maka came around him, her fingers still working her clit, and Soul felt his balls twitch as he followed her.  He watched her eyelids flutter and her teeth curl against her lips as she dropped her head back, and he buried his face in her chest as his own orgasm hit him.

For a few moments, they regained their bearings, loud breathing echoing slightly in the tiny closet.  Then Maka cupped his cheek and brought his face up for another light kiss.  “One down, six to go,” she whispered cheekily.

 

* * *

 

**Day 4: Lick**

Maka was kissing him gently, soft feathery smooches against his lips.  He grinned.  She kissed him more deeply and he leaned in to reciprocate.  She smiled then swiped her tongue over his mouth.  She did it again, and again, and—

Soul opened his eyes to see a very different guest in his bed.

"Oni!  Gerroff, dammit!"

Soul sat up and scrubbed his face, hearing the thump of the dog’s tail against the blankets.  The mutt gave a happy bark, then raced away into the kitchen for breakfast.

Soul sighed.  And it had been such a nice dream.

*

The day did not get better.

When he returned Oni to his awful owner later that morning, she had scowled at him and grabbed the leash from him.

"You’re late," she snapped.  "That will be coming out of your paycheck, I promise you."

Marie was not happy.

"Soul, I need you to keep Medusa on our side!" she trilled in his ear over the phone.  "There are plenty of other dog-walking places she can take her business to, as she is so fond of reminding me, and I need you not to lose us her money!"

The coffee mishap didn’t help.

"Oh, I thought you wanted skim milk," the girl behind the counter said.  "Uhhh I can remake it but you’ll have to get to the back of the line."

His mother’s phone call wasn’t much better.

"Soul, you haven’t been home to see us in ages.  Your father and I are growing concerned!"  There was a grunt of agreement and Soul realized his father was on the line as well.  "We were thinking, therefore, that we would come to see you for a long weekend.  I’m sure that would allow us to meet this mysterious person you’ve been seeing…"

The washing machine had been against him from the start.

"Oh, _c’mon_ ,” he groaned, opening the door to find that the spin cycle hadn’t work; his clothes sat in a cold puddle of water.

And then there was _that_ asshole.

"Fuck, man, tag your spoilers!" Soul cried, clicking the small red ‘x’ away from the Game of Thrones forum he frequented, but the damage had been done.

All in all, not his best day.

*

"Please tell me there are like, eight more of those hidden somewhere," Soul said, opening his apartment door to Maka, who stood in the hallway with a bottle of wine in her hands.  She looked down at it.

"No… sorry."

Soul smiled wanly.  “I’m kidding.  Half kidding.  Come on it, it was a rough day.”

"I can see that," she said, stepping over the threshold.

"Great," Soul muttered.

"No, stop," she said, setting down the bottle and removing her coat.  "I meant you looked exhausted."

Soul flung himself back down on his couch.  “Yeah, well.  Almost over, right?”  He indicated the clock on his oven; it read 9:17.

He scrolled through the list of movies idly as Maka busied herself with pouring drinks.  The light clinking of glasses and the hum of the TV was a familiar, soothing noise, and Soul felt himself sink further into the cushions.

Maka approached the sofa, full glass in hand, and Soul held out an arm.  She sank into the crook of his shoulder and settled in, handing him his wine as Soul selected one of the movies they had on their list.

They sipped their drinks (well, Soul might have down his pretty quickly — it had been a long day) and cuddled, basking in the low glow of the TV.  Soul zoned out, staring at the screen.

Maka set her wineglass down on the coffee table and leaned back into Soul, walking her fingers up and down his torso as she got comfortable again.  She continued, seemingly absentmindedly, and Soul barely noticed until her fingers started to stray rather far south.

"Where are you going?" he asked with a grin.

"Hmm," she said, tapping her fingers against the waistband of his sweatpants, "I wonder."

"I thought you’d been looking forward to seeing this movie."

"I’ve been looking forward to doing this more," she breathed in his ear.  Soul shuddered suddenly.  "And seeing as how you’ve had a bad day, this seems like a perfect opportunity."

"You don’t have to—"

"I want to.  Besides, you can always return the favor."  She kissed the shell of his ear.

"That sounds like a good deal," he murmured, and her fingers dipped below his waistband.

Her hand was a little cool to the touch, but she rubbed his thighs, dancing closer to her goal and warming her hands as she went.  Soul felt his dick twitch as he grew more and more erect in anticipation of her hands.  She played lightly with his snowy curls.  Finally, she slid the pads of her fingers up his shaft to reach his head, curling her hand around him.

She pulled, and it was clear she knew what she was doing, so Soul leaned his head back against the sofa cushions and let out the breath he was holding.  She shifted against him to get a better angle.

Maka stroked him languidly, clearing enjoying taking her time, and Soul was happy to let her, allowing himself to relish in the feel of her skin on his, her fingers gently massaging below the tip of his erection.

Soul found himself thrusting ever so slightly upwards into her hand, matching her movements, and Maka squeezed a bit tighter, pressed a bit harder.  He opened his mouth to breathe heavier, letting out a “ _hah”_ as he did.

She curled a finger over the top of his pants.  “Can we move these?”  Soul wriggled while Maka paused in her movements, allowing him to slide his pants over his hips.  It was a little awkward to sit there with his sweatpants around his lower thighs, but he forgot all about that as Maka gathered her hair with her free hand and leaned over.

She licked the sensitive vein on the underside of his dick, testing the waters.  Soul jerked a little.  Maka flattened her tongue and tried again.  For a while, she experimented, discovering what trick earned her what gasp or moan; he knew she was paying close attention.  But the loudest groan of all dropped from his lips as she finally closed hers around him.

Her mouth was hot, almost too hot, and Soul shifted again, suddenly overstimulated.  She moved her tongue against him gently, and soon he was rocking into her movements again, and she began to suck him in earnest.  Using her hand to pump him, her moved her mouth over him, back and forth.  Soul twisted one of his hands into her hair; her eyelashes fluttered as she smiled around his dick.

Maka started to hum.  Soul let out a noise of appreciation; words were beyond him now.  Between the vibrations of her lips, the texture of her tongue, the movements of her hand, he felt his abdomen tighten.

"Mah— _ahh_ ,” he moaned, and to his pleasure and chagrin, he came hard down his girlfriend’s throat.

She stilled herself and swallowed, then pumped her hand slowly as his orgasm faded.

"Oh man," he slurred slightly.  "I am so sorry.  I should have warned you."

"I’m all right," she said, sitting up, fingers to her lips.  She licked the inside of her cheek.  "But I will get more wine."

Soul chuckled weakly.  “Not a bad idea.”

She stood and walked back towards the kitchenette.  “Want some too?”

"I thought it was gonna be your turn?"

"It will be!  But we can finish the movie first.  You look a little tired," she said with a smirk, grabbing the bottle and stalking back over.  She folded her legs and curled back into him.  "Trust me, seeing you like that… well, I will need some attention too.  But you look a little tired, so we can wait for you to get a second wind."  She leaned over the coffee table, pouring the wine.  As she settled back, offering him his glass, Soul kissed her.

"Guess it wasn’t such a bad day after all."

* * *

  


**Day 5: Smooth**

They will dance tonight.

They will slide together among the sea of sweaty bodies, the thrum of the baseline vibrating in their bones, the flashing lights burning afterimages into their retinae, the thick air heavy with the scent of alcohol and the heat of a hundred heartbeats in a frenzy.

She will smile coyly and indicate the dance floor, and he will crack a grin across his face, toothy and eager.  He will follow her through the crowd, a hand on her thin waist to guide him, and she will carve a space out in the middle of the crowd of undulating bodies that is only for them.  She will turn to face him, her hair whirling around as she pivots, and give him an intimate grin in the privacy of the seething mass of people.

He will snigger lightly as he places his hands on her hip bones and draws her closer.  Her arms will snake around his neck and she will tangle her fingers in his hair.  The music will pulse loudly through the air and she will feel it in her lungs, air compressed by sound waves and tucked safely away in her chest, like a secret.

She will move against him, bringing their hips together, and he will match her in turn.  Her movements will be sinuous and sensual, in control and intimate.  His movements will be lighter, more personal, performing just for her.

They will bring their lips together and close their eyes against the harsh flashing lights that leave spots behind their eyelids.  She will rake her nails through the sheen of sweat at the nape of his neck and his thumbs will press into the strip of skin where her shirt rides up, tracing small circles.  They will give and take, back and forth, push and pull, and she will feel the heat pool between her legs and feel the pressure that is his pleasure against her abdomen.

She will note the patterns he traces down the curve of her spine with calloused fingers.  She will twist her hips back and forth, rocking against his erection, and feel her pulse in the apex of her sex.

He will lave at her neck, relishing in her scent, and will leave light marks of his feelings at her collarbone.  He will curl his fingers down her sides and follow the curve under her breasts down her stomach and around the swell of her hips.  She will hang off his neck and press against him, seeking relief.

Tomorrow they will wake up and the microwave will finally blow a fuse.  The next day they will receive a new mission, and the day after they will be on a plane to Guadalajara.  But tonight they will dance.

  


**Day 6: Bathroom**

The bath was just the right temperature, soothing and warm, but Soul was in too foul a mood to notice.  The water cascaded down his back as Maka wrung the sponge out over his shoulders and he sighed heavily.

“Oh, stop that,” admonished Maka.  “Your melancholy is echoing.”

He opened his eyes to look at his meister.  She was frowning slightly, kneeling outside the tub as she watched him soak sadly in the tub.

Soul thumped his arm against the edge of the bath; the cast on it made a loud clunk in the small tiled room.  “Sorry,” he grumbled, “I just hate being laid up and treated like an invalid.”

“But you are hurt,” she reminded him.  “There is no shame in taking time to heal.”

“I just don’t like being so useless!” he said.  “I hate that you have to wield Tsubaki tomorrow, I hate that Star keeps throwing things at in me in class because he knows I can’t catch it, and I hate that you have to cut my stupid food for me!”  He shifted, and the waterlogged towel around his waist came looser under the water.  Soul quickly clutched it closed, but it reminded him of something else, something that was out of his mouth before he could think about it.

“And I can’t even jerk it properly right now.”

Maka went rigid.  Soul felt his stomach drop.

“Oh shit, I am so sorry Maka, that is not at all what I meant to say, shit, Maka—”

“Is that gonna be an issue?” she asked.

“What… what do you mean?”

“I mean… do you… do that often enough that not being able to while you’re laid up will bother you?”

How could he answer without sounding like a total perv?  He and Maka had started officially dating (at least he was pretty sure they had; he really should clarify that point, but the makeout sessions on the couch had been pretty distracting) but they hadn’t discussed anything below the belt.  And yeah, after some of their more intense moments of sucking face, he’d had to go take care of a little problem (wait no, a big problem) and maybe a number of times in between those sessions just after the sight of his meister in shorts, but what would Maka say about that?  Would she think he jacked off too much?  Not enough?  And he’d already said “jerking it” — was that appropriate?  What was better?  ‘Masturbating?’  ‘Rubbing one out?’  ‘Choking the chicken?’  ‘Abusing the wicked stick?!’

“Uh,” he said.

Her eyes trailed down his body to rest at his lap.  “If it’s going to be an issue… I could help with that.”

“What?”

She shifted slightly.  “Yeah,” she murmured, a tinge of pink on her cheeks but her voice steady.  “I wouldn’t want something like that to get in the way of you being okay.  I need my weapon at his best.”

Of course.  Soul swallowed.  “Do you want to, though?”

Maka cleared her throat.  “Actually, yes.  I’ve been curious for a while… y’know, what it’s like.”

His dick, having been under so much scrutiny for the past few minutes, twitched below the towel.  Soul sucked in his breath through his teeth.

He wasn’t totally hard yet, so as she peeled back the towel, he frantically willed his blood southwards; he wanted his penis to make a good first impression.

Her face grew distinctly more red as she stared into the tub.  Without warning, her hand shot out and wrapped around the head of his erection.  Soul jumped, the water sloshing against the sides of the tub.

“Are you okay?” she asked worriedly.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Soul said quickly, feeling flushed.  “I just, uh.  It feels good.  And weird.  Mostly good.”

“So should I keep going?”

“Yes,” he said, embarrassingly eager.

She didn’t move.  “Um…”

“I mean—”

“What do I do?”

“Oh,” he muttered.  “Well…”

Soul wrapped his pruney fingers around her thin ones.  It felt odd to use his left hand where he normally used his right, but it was enough to guide her hand down his shaft and tighten her grip.

“Just keep doing that,” said Soul, voice cracking slightly.

Maka’s face was a mask of concentration as Soul let his eyelids squeeze shut.  The water made everything feel different.  He liked it, and it was all at least forty-two times better because it was his meister’s hand, but it was definitely different.

“This is kind of an awkward angle,” she grunted.

Soul’s eyes flew open.  “You don’t have to keep going if—”

“No, I’m fine,” she said hurriedly.  “I just hope you’re actually enjoying this.”

“Uh, I am.”  Understatement of the century.

With renewed vigor, she sped up her movements.  Maka was unpracticed but enthusiastic; it seemed hard for her to find a rhythm, but she kept changing positions and carefully observing Soul’s face with each new angle.

She tried everything: her fingers played gently with the underside of his head while her palm massaged the top; her hand pressed up and down his shaft, thumb exploring the vein on the underside of his erection; her forefinger dragged against his balls while she cupped his dick from below.

Soul felt his nerves turn from apprehension to anticipation.  His stomach muscles jumped as Maka twisted her hand in new ways.  He’d been trying to keep quiet, as if any noise might break the spell that had transported him to this magical dimension made of meister fingers, but as she tightened her hold on him, he couldn’t help but let out a moan between his teeth.

Maka’s movements faltered slightly.

“Wha—”

“Did that hurt you?”

“No!  Felt… amazing.”

“Oh.”  She blinked.  “I wasn’t…”  She squeezed gently again, and Soul grunted again.  “I guess you like that,” she said in a voice he’d never heard before.  He could only nod.

She finally seemed to find a pace, pumping him up and down while squeezing and releasing, and Soul knew he’d never last long, but he had no idea just how short a time that was until only a few minutes later.

“Ah!” he cried as a warning, but too late, and he felt himself release his meister’s hand as she worked him under the water.  Her eyes bugged out a little as she watched her weapon spill his seed into the tub.  He wanted to bask in the afterglow, but he had more pressing matters.

“Okay, ew, getting out of here now,” Soul mumbled.  He stood, balance thrown off by his cast (at least, that was what he told himself; he refused to think he was that done in by an orgasm from his super hot meister, nope, not him).  He stepped out of the tub, Maka’s hand under his elbow.  She handed him his dry towel and he wrapped it around his waist, trying to be careful with his still sensitive dick.

“Uh,” he said, suddenly bashful.  “Thanks.  I… that was incredible.”

“No problem,” Maka said, her voice cracking slightly.

He glanced at her from under his bangs.  Maka was shifting slightly from foot to foot, her thighs rubbing together very slightly.  The way she bit her lip as she stared as his chest gave him the courage to say, “Do you want me to return the favor?”

Maka snapped her gaze to his face, tongue caught almost comically between her teeth.  “You wanna?” she asked, throat sounding dry.

“Um, yes.”

She smiled, slowly and shyly, but nodded all the same.  “All right,” she said.  “You finish up with the bathroom and I’ll meet you in my room.”

“My room is closer.”

“Your room then.”

Soul grinned widely.

* * *

  


**Day 7: Underwear**

“Wait here,” she whispered in his ear, “and close your eyes.”

Soul shivered, a mix of anticipation and need, but did as he was bidden.  He felt the mattress compress and reassert its shape as Maka slipped off the bed, trailing a hand teasingly over his erection as she disappeared.

“Keep ‘em closed until I say so,” she said, and Soul wondered how a command could sound so sultry.

As the minutes ticked by, he kept a hand on his shaft, languidly stroking up and down.  Soul knew she could be back any second and he wanted to be completely ready when she did.

He heard her footsteps pad lightly towards his room.  “Are they still closed?” Maka called softly from the doorway.

“Yes.”

“Well, then you can open them now.”

Soul obeyed.

“Shit,” he whispered.

His meister was wearing lingerie he’d never seen before.  Across her breasts red and black ribbons crisscrossed, covering barely more than her pert nipples.  The two red ones met across her midsection in a neat bow, the trailing ends delicately brushing against her abdomen.  The bottom piece was the same, interlocking patterns of ebony and crimson against her porcelain skin.

She walked across the room towards her weapon, carefully watching the way his eyes were glued to her body.  His hands rose to meet her hips as she approached the end of the bed.

“You look gorgeous,” he murmured, bringing his teeth to her midriff.  He nibbled gently at her skin as she let out a breathy chuckle.  His hands trailed down her thighs as he sucked and pulled at her with his mouth.  She let her head fall back.

Soul’s fingers traversed their way back up to her lingerie, playing with the ribbon.  But before he could do anything else, Maka put her hands over his.

“No,” she whispered in the darkness.  “You can only use your teeth.”

He glanced up at her, shadows dancing across the contours of his face, until it split into a wide toothy grin.  Soul didn’t reply, only brought his lips low to the small valley of her hip bones, and sucked hard at her pale skin.  Maka gasped lightly and anchored herself to his shoulders as she slid her knees onto the bed, straddling her partner.  His hands roamed down to cup her ass and squeeze her tightly.

Soul dragged his tongue up her chest, goosebumps trailing in its wake, and wrapped it around the red ribbon across her midriff as he reached it.  His eyes met hers, her flushed face illuminated by the scant moonlight.  She watched as he pulled the ribbon between his teeth, watched as his tongue expertly lavished the knot, loosening it bit by bit.  Finally he attached his teeth to one of the loose ends of the bow and pulled slowly.  Maka saw the muscles in his neck contract as he tilted his head back; his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed once.

The bow draped against her bare stomach, loose and limp, as Soul gently released his end of the ribbon.  He sat up again to grab the next one perched between her breasts.  It curled around his lower teeth, and the way his jaw jutted out caused a fire to flare in Maka’s abdomen and she felt the walls of her sex contract.

He pulled again, downwards this time, his spine slowly bending as he undid the ribbon.  The two black ones holding her breasts fell away gently, and Maka exhaled slowly.

Clutching at her backside, fingers hot against her skin, Soul made his way up her navel again, tongue mapping the path from her midriff to her nipple.  Maka felt it ache for his touch.  The flat of his tongue was hot compared to the cool desert air, but with each wet drag of his mouth pulling away from her skin, it dried colder and her flesh prickled with goosebumps.

Maka let out another hum of pleasure as his teeth gently pricked her.  He ran them across her skin, then bit down harder, a gasp escaping from her lips.  Soul made his way to her other breast while tightening his hold on her ass.

Her breathing was a chorus of throaty groans and airy gasps.  Maka felt the ribbons slide from her shoulders as the lingerie slipped off her skin.  Soul’s hand traveled up her spine, blunt nails marking their way to her shoulder blades, tracing words in a language too primitive for words.  He tugged hard at her nipple until releasing her with a slow pop.

“Flip over,” he said hoarsely, and slipped past his meister as she fell forward onto the bed.  She heard Soul slide on the comforter behind her.

She felt his lips press against the back of her thigh, reverent and light.  He kissed his way up, the sounds echoing in her ears.  As he reached her hip again, Soul bit down lightly.  Running his hands up her legs and toying with the edges of the underwear, he remembered what his meister had commanded, so he nestled the string between his teeth once more.  As the lingerie came loose to expose the smooth curve of her ass, Soul allowed his hand to curl around it again.

Maka felt the last of the underwear slide off her skin, but it was quickly replaced by Soul’s tongue, which followed her thighs to their apex.  He probed her entrance with the tip of his tongue, using his fingers to spread her lips apart.  She curved her spine to better meet his mouth.

The sensation of Soul running his tongue languidly across her clit had breathy gasps dripping from her lips.  He slowly swirled around, circling closer to her sex, each pass making her moan a little louder.  He dipped inside, and she let out a small cry of relief.

Carefully, deliberately, Soul laved at her walls with his tongue, peppering her thighs with kisses each time he took a break to work his fingers deep inside her.  Maka felt her head loll back on her shoulders, singing soft praises to the ceiling.  She felt the pressure between her legs building, felt the coil within her stomach tighten.  Soul continued to lick at her, pressing his index finger against her clit while hooking his thumb into her sex.

“Ahh,” Maka murmured, the rising flood of pleasure overwhelming her senses and causing her to curl her fingers into the mattress.  She pressed backwards, wanting more of his tongue, more of his fingers, more of him.  “Soul!  I—”  The words wouldn’t form right, but he understood, increasing the speed of his movements.  Maka groaned loudly.  “Come inside me!”

Her weapon understood, and shifted behind her quickly so that he was kneeling over her.  He lined himself up with her entrance and slid inside, the sudden pressure and tightness sending her over the edge, and Soul thrust gently as Maka rode out her orgasm over his cock.

Her senses heightened, Maka felt Soul’s thrusts pick up speed as she came down from her high, felt the rippling pleasure shoot through her muscles as he wrapped his hands around her hips.  Soul guided her over his erection as she pressed back into his rhythm, and she heard a groan fall from his lips.

She tightened the walls of her sex around him and Soul let out another moan.  She met him, thrust for thrust, feeling her pleasure mount again.

“Not gonna last long,” he growled, but Maka only sped up her movements.  He tore a hand away from her thighs and dipped down her stomach to press against her clit.  “But I wanna make you come again,” he whispered in his ear, leaning over her.  “And again, and again, and again, and again—”

Maka bit her lip, Soul’s dick and hands and chest and teeth too much as he sucked at her ear, panting audibly as his pleasure grew.  He moved faster, harder, digging his teeth into her shoulder.

With a strangled gasp, he came hard, his fingers spasming a little against her clit, and Maka curled her back into him and her hand met his at her sex and she felt another orgasm overtake her, spreading through her limbs and making them heavy with exhaustion.  Soul’s weight from above proved too much for her shaky limbs and she lowered herself to the mattress.  As he felt her move, he rolled off of her, but replaced his fingers in her throbbing sex to take the place where his penis had been, prolonging her pleasure.

They settled in together, nestled within the other.  As their breathing evened out, he gathered her hair away from her neck and placed a light kiss to her shiny skin.

“I really liked the underwear,” he murmured in her ear.

  
She reached back to tangle her fingers in his hair.  “Oh good,” she said sleepily.  “Because happy anniversary.”

  



End file.
